Scary Monsters
by idioticonion
Summary: Slash-y goings on at the ELE between Billy Dr Horrible and Dead Bowie. Contains references to Doctor Horrible's Sing-Along Blog DVD Easter Eggs.
1. Chapter 1

Scary Monsters

They stood outside the conference room. Billy wasn't really sure what they were supposed to do. What was the etiquette? He had no idea. His best bet, he presumed, was to stand up straight, set his jaw, cross his arms over his chest and… thank god they couldn't see his eyes behind the tinted lenses of his goggles.

The eyes were the windows of the soul.

Although the ridges were really starting to dig into his forehead. He wasn't used to wearing the damn things for hours on end.

"What's under the coat, man?"

Billy flinched. It was… that.. thing… Dead Bowie. Out of all the members of the ELE, Dead Bowie was the one that creeped him out. Leika and Snake Bite, he could deal with by ignoring them - it wasn't as if he really knew how to talk to women anyway. Jefferson was only interested in sucking up to Bad Horse (Bowie had that right, anyway) and Normal was just… well, Billy wasn't exactly sure what qualified him to be in the League anyway. He wasn't exactly very evil. Unless his super power was to bore you to death.

"W-what?" He responded. Bowie confused him. He was kind-of snarky and kind-of pretty and had those hypnotic eyes.

"Under the coat," Bowie continued. "What are you? Another boring robot like the Prof?"

"Cyborg!" Normal shouted over at them, although Billy had no idea that he'd been listening. Perhaps he had bionic ears or something?

"N-no!" Billy stammered and cursed inwardly. "No, of course not."

Bowie reached out and rapped Billy's chest with his knuckles as if knocking on a door. "Wow… no body armour? Cool, baby."

Billy frowned. "Body armour? Why would I need…?" But then he realised and closed his mouth very suddenly. Of course he would. The ELE were probably targeted by every wannabe super hero in town.

For some reason, however, Bowie's hand was still on his chest. He spread his fingers, the five points pressing lightly against the material of Billy's coat so he could barely feel them. It… tickled.

"Stop that!" He said in what he hoped was a commanding voice.

"Stop what?" Bowie said, licking his lips, looking up slowly from where he'd placed his hand to where Billy was blinking rapidly behind the goggles. Face to face, they were pretty much the same height.

"Nnngh?" Was all Billy managed before a clatter of hooves announced the arrival of the boss and the spell was broken. Bowie flashed him a grin and lowered his hand, turning around innocently as if he hadn't just been doing something strange and intoxicating to Billy.

Bad Horse let out a commanding whinny and they all followed him inside the room. Billy sat as far away from Bowie as he could.


	2. Chapter 2

_Dead things should stay dead_, Billy thought, and he should know. Still, Dead Bowie held a kind of morbid fascination for him. The feeling seemed to be mutual and, try as he might, Billy just couldn't seem to shake the (what should he call him? Zombie?) off.

Billy had earned himself quite the reputation as the strong, silent type at the ELE, mostly due to the fact that half of the time he was just too dumfounded to speak. To think how he'd admired these people! How he'd struggled for _years_ to join their ranks! To think how he'd been so sure that they had all the answers. Now, watching them… being in close proximity… he realised that the crème-de-la-crème of the evil world were as lost as confused as everyone else...

If a little more obsessed by chaos and mayhem.

Each meeting would go the same way. Jeff (Billy smirked that he could even think of Fake Thomas Jefferson as "Jeff") would dominate proceedings, being such a nerd for detail. Occasionally the founding father would be cut down by a judicious neigh or snort from The Boss. Leika would roll her eyes a lot and shoot angry glances at every male League member (and even Bowie would blanch at that). Tie-die would laugh her low, dirty laugh which she used to great effect but she also had a sharp mind which Billy had come to admire. The Prof would often drone on and on until Billy noticed that he wasn't the only one around the table who was stifling a yawn.

None of them had any vision. None of them understood what was so desperately needed: To show the world how far it had sunk into degradation and corruption. Each meeting would end with disappointment and inevitable frustration. Any interesting ideas would wither and die under Bowie's trade-mark sarcasm. There were so many strong personalities in the League that they seemed to disagree about absolutely everything. The only purpose of the E.L.E., as far as Billy could see, was to prevent all-out war between its members.

It was during one particularly frustrating meeting when Billy was watching Tie-Die and Leika spar with each other, that Bowie leaned over and whispered in his ear.

"You watch 'em. That's always you. Watchin'. Are those goggles infra-red or something?"

Billy turned slowly, tilting his head to regard Bowie thoughtfully. Bowie… what was he actually doing in the League? Billy didn't think he had any particular contribution to make, except for the interjection of the occasional acerbic put-down. And, as usually, he was leaning in way too close to Billy. Did the guy have no concept of the idea of personal space?

"How exactly were you murdered?" Billy said, bristling at the intrusion. "You said 'brutally'?" He let a smirk spread slowly, his lips curving.

"Knife…" Bowie said, flashing him a grin that told Billy that the story was just as likely to be a lie as it was the truth. "Right through the chest."

Billy's frown was hidden by the goggles. Bowie seemed to be deliberately taunting him. "Painful?" He asked.

Bowie grinned. "Excruciating…"

"I can imagine…"

Bowie tilted his head. "Have a drink with me somewhere, after this?" His eyes seemed huge, all of a sudden. They seemed to dominate the room. Billy shook his head, trying to clear it.

"I- I-," he gulped. He couldn't seem to get enough air.

"Wait for me, after the meeting?"

Billy's throat was dry. "I don't- I-"

Bowie laughed. "You don't do boys?" He grinned and whispered in Billy's ear. "Don't be silly, Billy… We're all open minded here in the League."

The words echoed like wind whistling through an underground cave. Somewhere inside him, he felt angry - both at Bowie using his first name and also at his presumption. But another part, the part that was firmly on top of all his other emotions, was caught up in long, slow, very warm flush that started at the top of his head and flowed all the way through to his toes.

Billy spent the rest of the meeting in a daze.

*--*--*

Bowie's fingers pulled gently at his goggles, sliding them up over his forehead. His fingers were cold, but ever point of skin that they touched burned like it had been brushed with acid.

"Wow…" Bowie breathed, his nose so close that he made Billy go a little cross-eyed. "Look at those baby-blues…" He grinned. "You stay still, sweetie. I want to have a bit of a poke around…"

Billy couldn't seem to move. His limbs were locked in place and he was imprisoned within his body like he'd been transformed into a mannequin. Bowie slid a thumb under the corner of material where Billy's coat was fastened against his shoulder blade, popping the buttons until the flap fell open. The zombie made short work of the rest of the coat, pulling the material gently away from his shoulders with an appreciative whistle. "That's it, baby," He purred in Billy's ear. "Now, doesn't that feel groovy?"

And the crazy thing was, it did feel… like _something_. Billy parted his lips with a gasp as Bowie leaned in, brushing his mouth across his jaw-line, leaving a smear of sticky lipstick in its wake. This close, Billy could see how the makeup sparkled on Bowie's skin, the colours so bright and vivid, like paint rather than cosmetics.

He couldn't move. Billy absolutely couldn't move. His heart was hammering in his chest and his knees were turning to jelly but he couldn't move a muscle. He couldn't even seem to think properly. Dimly, he was aware that this must be Bowie's power - some kind of powerful hypnosis. Were the other members of the League aware of that? And if they were, why hadn't they warned him!

Bowie's lips were straying dangerously close to his own until he felt Bowie slip his tongue flicking across his teeth, tasting him. It was all he could do to let out a low groan which turned into a whine as he felt Bowie's fingers pull at his t-shirt and slide beneath, playing over his skin. They burned and froze him, sending a kind of agonising pleasure through his spine until suddenly, mysteriously, everything stopped.

Dimly, Billy heard a snort and a low whinny.

"Lovely…" Bowie breathed.

The world tilted back into focus, sound flooding back suddenly, causing him to stagger. Bad Horse loomed up behind them, pawing at the ground, menacingly.

Unabashed, Bowie gave their leader a guilty, cheeky smile and stepped away from Billy, who hurriedly scoped his coat and goggles from the floor. He just wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole.

Looking up at Bowie, he scowled. "Don't try that again," he muttered, trying to keep his voice from shaking.

Bowie clapped him on the shoulder, laughing. "Oh, I will, darling. You can count on that."


	3. Chapter 3

Part 3

Billy took a chance and missed the next E.L.E. meeting. To be fair, he had locked himself in his lab and asked Moist to make sure that he wasn't disturbed. His new _Horrible Headquarters_ was an old mansion house and was a great deal more comfortable (not to mention spacious, with a wonderful basement lab) than his old downtown apartment. Also, Moist was very good at fending off undesirable callers.

Any member of the League would definitely come under the heading of "undesirable" right now.

Trouble was, without really understanding Dead Bowie's super-power, it was hard to come up with a defence against it. Billy guessed that it was a variant on Bad Horse's own ability - some kind of mind control. But the zombie's power seemed a good deal more subtle than Bad Horse's (or any one of the number of Heroes who had similar powers). No, Bowie's was more a sort of magnified charisma - an ability to persuade people to do what he wanted, or even to want it themselves. Now he looked back at all the League meetings he'd attended, Billy could see very clearly where Bowie had steered the decision making.

How could he triumph in a battle of wills with someone who would stoop so low as to use his powers to _seduce_ people?

Billy tutted, standing in front of his trusty white board and scowling at all the equations written there. The nearest he could get was to use some kind of neural-dampening device. He'd built a kind of "mind-wipe" ray a while ago that had never really worked, but he could fit a very crude version to his goggles. It would be tricky and impossible to test but he couldn't go back into the E.L.E. headquarters without at least some remedial level of protection. Billy knew, with an instinct honed from years of being the victim of bullies, that Dead Bowie saw him as a conquest. He wouldn't let that happen.

He was Doctor Horrible! He had a PhD in Horribleness! He wouldn't let himself be… French kissed… by a walking corpse.

(no matter how good it had felt).

With a confident smile, Billy began to work on the circuitry required for the modification to his mind-ray. He's show Bowie! He'd show all of them!

*--*--*

Billy took his seat at the conference table and smoothed down the material of his coat. He turned his gaze on Bowie and tilted his head, giving the zombie his best sarcastic grin.

Bowie shrugged and had the gall to ignore him!

In fact, he ignored him throughout the entire meeting.

Billy realised pretty quickly how incredibly boring the meeting was without Bowie's interjections. Okay, so it moved along more quickly without the zombie picking apart every proposal and plan, but Jefferson's voice was just so dull that Billy found himself lulled almost to sleep by the drone, plus the slight whine from the mechanism in his goggles.

Was it the goggles that were protecting him from Bowie? Or was Bowie just behaving himself after being warned off by Bad Horse?

It was frustrating! Having geared himself up for a confrontation, Billy really wanted to test his new device and prove for once and for all that he could resist Bowie's charms. He wanted to prove it. He needed to prove it. And he was being frustrated.

Billy didn't cope well with frustration.

He was roused from his stupor by Bowie poking him under the table.

"Hey, Doc…" The zombie whispered. "Meeting's over." Bowie's fingers skirted over his ribcage. "Still no body armour? My, but aren't we a brave one!"

Billy grabbed Bowie's hand and bent his fingers back and he pushed them away violently. "Don't touch me…" He hissed.

"Ooo, I believe the lady doth protest too much!" Bowie said, staring at him.

Billy grinned. He didn't even feel a flicker of Bowie's power. The goggles worked! He laughed - a low key version of his trademark laugh, just a rumble of thunder before the storm.

But Bowie just looked smug. "Oooo… Have you done something? You have, haven't you? You've built some sort of gadget-y thing to protect yourself against me. You're _scared_ of me! You think I might _persuade_ you to do something you want to do…"

Billy didn't reply, but behind the goggles, he was blinking rapidly. His gloved hand balled into a fist. "I'm not your plaything, Bowie. Now give it up!"

Bowie leaned forward, putting on hand on Billy's knee then sliding it up, under his lab coat, until he squeezed his thigh. "I think you want this, Doctor. I think you want this as much as I do, sweetie…"

Billy sat still, rigid, determined not to betray the fact that his body was pulsing with energy and warmth and all he wanted to do was kiss Bowie, hard, hard enough to bruise his lips.

Damn it! The goggles weren't working! Were they?

Were they?

Was it is own desire or Bowie's that was driving him?

Bowie was grinning now, damn him, his hand moving higher and higher, squeezing and squeezing. "You know what I like about you, Doctor Horrible? Billy…? I think you're a challenge. And I like a challenge."

Billy gulped but stayed still, using all his self control not to react. Any reaction would just give Bowie what he wanted. Any reaction at all. _Just stay still_, he thought. _Stay still…_

Then suddenly, without warning, Bowie ripped the goggles from his face and kissed him, his mouth claiming his, his tongue lively, battling his own. With the goggles off, Billy's control withered and died under the full force of Bowie's charisma and he found himself kissing Bowie back just as enthusiastically, although a great deal less skilfully. He held the back of Bowie's head with his gloved hands and let out a moan, not caring who heard him, hardly even aware of where he was. It didn't feel like Bowie was controlling him or freezing him or doing anything to him. _He_ felt in control. He felt a passion and a power that he'd never experienced in his life. He didn't stop to draw breath and he held nothing back. Months of sorrow and mourning and regret burst out of him in that kiss and he didn't back down an inch, didn't think beyond the moment and might not have come up for air if it hadn't been for the high-pitched laugh coming from behind him.

"You boysss! Would you pleassse get a room?" It was Snake Bite.

Bowie broke the kiss but didn't move back. Billy still held him in place, their lips were only inches from each other. They stared at each other, panting.

"You're… you're hypnotic!" Bowie finally said, pulling away. He laughed uncertainly.

"You're a very good kisser," Billy conceded with a slight frown.

"Thank you!" Bowie replied with a cheeky grin. "But I do know that."

Billy rolled his eyes. "Now give me back my goggles."

Bowie grinned and held them out. "My pleasure. They're actually kind of sexy."

Billy chuckled at that. "Dude! Seriously. Stop it."

Bowie didn't back down. "I'd like to see you wearing them goggles, an' nothing else…"

Billy laughed. "Will you give it up? I'm not going to sleep with you!"

Bowie grinned. "You say that now. But you know how persuasive I can be."

Billy tapped the goggles before putting them on. "That doesn't work when I'm wearing these. So that screws with your fantasy."

Bowie raised an eyebrow. "Or does it? Perhaps the challenge is to get you in the sack while you're still in control of your faculties?"

Billy shook his head. "I don't think so."

He didn't. He really didn't. Despite how Bowie tasted. Despite the fact that his thigh was _still_ tingling.

Bowie laughed. "Give me a week. _You'll_ be begging _me_."

Billy turned away with a sigh.

"Two weeks? Come on, Billy." Bowie reached out, running the back of his hand over Billy's bicep.

Billy turned back to him and tilted his head. "Is this some kind of weird mad scientist fetish that you have?" He asked.

"Yeah," Bowie replied. "I just want to have sex in your lab." He laughed.

"Ew!" Billy managed.

"Do you have a lab in your bedroom?"

"No!" But he found himself blushing. "That's it, I'm leaving. Meeting's over." Billy got to his feet, a little unsteadily. He tried his best to ignore Bowie as he shouted after him "Do you have test tubes?" and followed it with an incredibly dirty laugh.


	4. Chapter 4

**Part 4**

"I'd _love_ to get you down in my lab…" Billy mumbled.

"Oh yes? Sounds like a bloody invitation to me…" Bowie chuckled, his lips tickling Billy's ear. Weird thing, he could never feel Bowie's breath.

"Yeah. That's not what I mean. I mean, to see what makes you tick!"

Bowie grinned, running his cool tongue over Billy's earlobe in that way that made him just _throb_. "I can show you how I tick, baby. Just ask…"

"Hey!" Billy laughed. "I want to see how you work. You know? With the whole 'being dead' thing. I'm a scientist!"

"Excuses, excuses…"

"Well, that… and to isolate your super power!" He turned towards Bowie and raised an eyebrow.

"What super power?" Bowie grinned cheekily.

There was an angry "neigh" from the head of the conference table and both men cringed. Sometimes it was easy to forget that there were other people there when Bowie was in the room. Billy didn't even wear his goggles pulled down any more. What was the point? He had another idea how to get back at Bowie and he'd just have to deal with the (un)pleasant side effects in the meantime.

Like how much he'd preened when Bowie said how much his red coat suited him.

What was he? A teenage girl?

Normal got to his feet and strode purposefully (he did _everything_ purposefully - it was totally lame) over to a switch on the side of the wall. Billy had always assumed was for the lights, but when Normal flipped it, his bionic chin glowed for a second before a circle opened up in the ceiling and a large monitor screen was lowered through it.

Billy was far too busy geek-ing out, trying to figure out the cool mechanism worked, to be intimidated by this latest piece of ELE gadgetry.

"And now," Normal announced pompously, "it is time to discuss _The Plan_…"

There were a series of hushed murmurs around the table as the screen flickered to life and a man appeared, bathed in an eerie red glow. A visor covered his eyes.

_The Plan_! Billy had heard about this since long before he'd joined the ELE. He had no idea what _The Plan_ actually was but hoped it was villainous and exciting. He guessed he'd find out soon enough.

Before the man on the screen had a chance to speak, Bowie patted Billy's knee and whispered in his ear. "Oh well," He said. "Looks like I'll be going up to the space station again!"

*--*--*

Yes, there was an actual space station from which the ELE could launch dastardly attacks on The Earth.

Yes, there was a secret member of the ELE who no one had ever heard about.

And Yes, there was _The Plan_.

But, more importantly as far as Billy was concerned, Bowie was gone.

Apparently it had to be him because he _didn't need to breathe_. And because _the secret ELE member was his brother_.

Hah!

Stupid Dead Bowie.

Time Science Blood Cloud was a stupid name for a super villain anyways.

Billy sulked for days.

He didn't realise how much his flirtation with the zombie had perked up the otherwise interminably dull ELE board meetings. It drove home, finally, how incredibly crappy and ineffective the ELE actually was.

To pass the time, Billy took it upon himself to organise a special something for Bowie's return.

"So, buddy, are you _sure_ you're okay with this?" Billy asked his henchman, dressed once more in what he referred to as "classic" Dr Horrible - white coat, white gloves, white boots. He didn't dwell on the symbolism of this change of colour.

"Yeah, Doc, you really don't have to check another six times." Moist replied. "You've given me the non-stick grip. All I have to do is get him on to the gurney and put the brain-o-gizmo-"

"Neuro-psychic magno-diagnositicizer!"

"Whetever! Put the Brain-o-gizmo over his head, switch on the power from the control room and you'll do the rest! How hard can it be?"

Billy shrugged. "I guess, not hard at all?"

Moist grinned. "At least him being up at the space station has given you a few more days to get all this stuff tested, eh boss?" He winked suggestively.

Billy scowled and folded his arms. "This isn't about Dead Bowie, Moist. This is about figuring out how I can manipulate the League!"

"Sure it is. Which is why you want to tie him down."

"For safety!"

Moist laughed. "You're fooling no-one, Doc!"

Billy rolled his eyes and adjusted his goggles.

"Shut up and help me run another test."

"Yes, Doc."

*--*--*

The trouble was that Billy had done his research. He'd found out everything it was possible to find out about Dead Bowie and hadn't found anything useful. Not even in the ELE files, which he'd hacked on the first day they'd accepted him on to the Board.

There were two annoying mysteries:

(a) How Dead Bowie's whole zombie thing actually worked

(b) How his super power worked.

(b) was probably more important, so long as the zombie thing didn't stop working all of a sudden. It was easy to assume that (a) and (b) were linked but there was nothing in zombie lore (and yes, Billy had done a lot of research on Haitian rituals) that said you suddenly got a lot better at sexual seduction when you got zombi-fied. Not that sexual seduction was a super power exactly. Or even Billy's area of scientific expertise. But it was really, really irritating. Call that mystery b, sub-clause i:

(b.i) Work out how Bowie made him want to sleep with him.

And for that matter, what was Bowie's motivation behind all this?Okay, that was another one:

() Why did Bowie _want_ to sleep with him?

Billy didn't like mysteries. And the more he thought about them the more seemed to appear. Now, he'd run out of room on his whiteboard.

So, the equation was really quite simple. Billy needed his subject where he could keep him still, keep him away from the rest of the League and do lots and lots of experiments on him.

Lots and lots.

Billy found himself smiling at the thought.

Experiments of a more sexual nature…?

Damn! Was Bowie suddenly able to get to him from _space_? Was he up there somewhere beaming a seduction ray into his head? Billy frantically covered his eyes with his goggles, backing against the wall in terror.

After a couple of minutes he managed to pull himself together. He was being really stupid. But, if anything, this just made him realise the necessity of getting Bowie into his lab, on to his table and naked-

Oh god…

Did he just think "_naked_"?

*--*--*

Bowie stood in the middle of the chaos of the lab, turning around and around, his tailcoat fanning out as he did so. "Wow…" He said.

Billy shrugged, feeling strangely pleased. Okay, so he was probably responding to Bowie's super power. And he really, really needed to keep on top of that.

(As well as keeping on top of Bowie)

Damn! Not again!

"You did say I could test you?" Billy said, standing up tall. He was Doctor Horrible. He wasn't going to be cowed by a 1970s glam-rock walking corpse. Even a walking corpse that was such an incredible kisser.

"Yeah…" Bowie drawled, eyeing Moist suspiciously. "But not with this bloke in the room…" He looked a little creeped out by Moist.

Billy tutted with impatience. "Okay, Moist, you may leave us now." He turned around and gave Moist a pointed look behind Bowie's back.

Billy backed Bowie up against one of the gurneys.

"Why are there two beds?" Bowie asked him.

Billy shrugged. "Backup?"

Bowie laughed. "_You_ are the biggest nerd I know."

"I'll take that as a compliment." Billy replied. They were very close, almost nose to nose. "Sit down? I'll strap you in…" Billy grinned.

Bowie saw down casually on the gurney. "You want to tie me down?"

Billy laughed. "If that's how you see it?"

"Kinky."

"Whatever, dude."

He pushed Bowie flat on the bed, his hand tingling as he touched the centre of Bowie's chest. He placed the metal crown of his neuro-device carefully over Bowie's head, flattening his spiky hair. The machine crackled and buzzed, lights twinkling within the structure of metal and wire.

"I, uh, haven't had a chance to test this _fully_ yet," Billy admitted, licking his lips. He placed a smaller version of the device over his own head, fixing it to the temples.

Bowie gave him a bored look and yawned slightly. "Okay, I'll bite. What is this?"

Taking hold of the leather straps on either side of the bed and tightening them across Bowie's body, Billy tried not to show how disappointed he was that Bowie wasn't more intimidated by this. He could do _anything_ to him right now. Anything.

(He could unbutton Bowie's coat and pull open his shirt and run his tongue along-)

He shook his head. "That's not going to work. You're not getting in my head, zombie!"

Bowie laughed. "I'm already in it, baby."

"If you must know, this incredibly clever device is a way for me to monitor your brainwave activity. I told you, I'm want to know how you tick. I want to know how your… power of persuasion… works. I'm gonna find out everything about you. Even if it takes _hours_!"

He leaned in towards Bowie, whose eyes went wide.

"It might hurt!" Billy whispered with a faint smile. "Who knows?"

But the zombie just smiled and said: "Go ahead."

Billy hesitated for a second, then nodded, raising his hand and giving Moist the agreed signal. Moist would be monitoring him using the four security cameras that were placed strategically around the room to capture every angle of the experiment.

There was a hum as the Neuro-psychic magno-diagnositicizer powered up. Billy felt a buzz deep in his skull as sat back on to the second gurney.

It was a lucky thing, too. Because in the next moment, the thing really kicked in sending a wave of energy directly into the pleasure centre of Billy's brain.


End file.
